


Loose Ends

by ephieshine



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blowjobs, Domestic, Emotional Sex, Future Fic, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Separation and Eventual Reunion, Slow Burn, now with porn yay, only explicit for the last chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2822957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephieshine/pseuds/ephieshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For three heartbeats they lock eyes – ocean blue and gunpowder grey. Then all the breath comes out of him in a hasty rush.</p><p>He hears his own incredulous voice, unrecognizably rough with disuse:</p><p>“Levi?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Separation

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Loose ends - Cabos sueltos](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167777) by [Marian_Nightroad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marian_Nightroad/pseuds/Marian_Nightroad)



After the defeat of the Titans, expansion beyond the walls is a slow, apprehensive task. It takes time for people to accept that the Titans are really gone, that humanity is safe once more. The political mess that’s left behind in the wake of the royal family’s exposed secrets only serves to further impede progress in reclaiming territory in the world.

Hanji Zoe is named the 14th Commander of the Survey Corps exactly two weeks after humanity’s victory, though under her command, the Corps evolves into a group of pioneers and explorers, voyaging to even the most extreme of environments to document the endless possibilities in the reclaimed world. (It has to be said however, that most of this work is done by Moblit, her now-fiancé, while Hanji cultivates her newfound fascination with compounds found in exotic plants, developing a branch of chemistry she calls “organic.”)

Most of the original members of the Survey Corps remain, including the Shiganshina trio, though Armin is one of the first leaders of the Policy faction which plans courses of action for the just distribution of new territory to middle-class citizens. Jean Kirchstein joins the Military Police, active in the dynamic reformation of the corrupt system. Sasha Braus and Connie Springer stay with the Corps for a year, then open a homely, incredibly-popular restaurant on the outskirts of Wall Maria. The Corps frequent the restaurant, and Sasha is always more than happy to serve them the baked potato-and-beef special on the house.

Erwin Smith, now more widely celebrated than despised, retires quietly; disappears after bidding only the closest of comrades farewell. It’s a curious thing that he disappears right after the victory, that he does not stay to savour the triumph he has strived towards for his entire adult life. Rumours circulate of course, for peacetime complacency is the eager sire of wagging tongues. But Erwin Smith isn’t called humanity's greatest strategist for nothing; he’s covered up his tracks well, and for years there’s no trace of him at all.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Levi does after he’s granted leave from the Survey Corps is visit the Underground. Hanji encourages – no, nearly forces leave upon him, saying that he needs the break, needs to find peace after all he’s gone through. (He suspects however, for good reason, that the true reason she wants him gone is so that she can work uninterrupted in her laboratory without him snatching away dirty beakers and cleaning them out.)

Friends from his former life keep a space for him in the Underground even after all these years, allowing his meagre belongings to lie untouched but by time. Among them, there are really only three items he treasures, three he truly cares about.

One is a handkerchief, embroidered in looping cursive with his mother’s initials, _K.A._ A present from his father to her before he’d stopped going to the brothel at which she’d worked, leaving her with the weighty burden of bastard son and an even weightier broken heart. She had died seven years later of the plague that had swept through the Underground, and Levi had taken the handkerchief from her corpse just before her body had been tossed into a mass burial site. He had watched as the body had flopped like a rag-doll, limbs askew at impossible angles.

The other two items are small stoppered pots, crude paint chipped. The smaller one is mahogany; the larger, a light brown. Over the years the little fissures in the paintwork have blossomed, branched intricately over all the surfaces, but the clay underneath is thankfully intact.

These two pots hold Isabel and Farlan – at least, cremated remains of them that the Survey Corps had managed to salvage. Their ashes had given to Levi because there was nobody else to whom they could be given.

Levi takes these three items with him. After consulting with Zackley, he’s permitted by the state to leave the walls. For the first time, he doesn’t don the emblem of the Survey Corps on his shoulders as he steps out through the gates.

It’s a hollow feeling.

\--

He gives himself two months to find the best locations.

He takes his gear with him; it’s not because it really helps him scale the barren mountains or the rocky cliffs, nor is it because he fears to be outside the walls without his maneuverability. The gear has become an integral part of him, yet a part he knows is intimately tied with all the grief in his life.

This is the last time, he tells himself. This is the last time he’ll fly.

\--

For his mother, the ocean. She’d always loved the feeling of baths, the few times she had had the opportunity to take them. He remembers being with her in the lukewarm waters, the rusting metal tub; he remembers the graceful spread of her dark, silky hair, floating timeless beneath the surface. He remembers being entranced by her husky voice, strains of foreign songs echoing against the tiled walls of the brothel’s washroom.

Levi takes his time there, alone as he is on the beaches. He takes in the sight of the fine white sand, the crash of frothy waters, the glimmer of sunlight reflected across the vast expanse. He takes off his boots, wades into the ice-cold waters and pokes with great suspicion at the strange green creatures attached to rocks that retract their appendages when touched. He ignores the coldness, the numbness of his feet, for these are small prices to pay.

When the night begins to fall, he wads up the handkerchief and tosses it into the ocean, watches as it drifts away, floating timeless on jagged waves.

\--

For Isabel and Farlan, the skies. Of the many things that had brought Isabel joy, soaring through the air was one of the greatest. Though Farlan had never expressed quite the same enthusiasm, Levi knows that the sandy-haired boy would have wanted to be with Isabel.

It takes him a fortnight to trek to the top of the tallest mountain he can find; at the summit, the wind blows dreadfully hard, ruffles his hair in a poor imitation of what he used to do to Isabel. Below, a vast spread of green: overgrown trees sheltering woodland creatures. He can see Wall Maria, far off and tiny in the distance.

He unstoppers the pots, scatters their ashes to the unrelenting wind – he lets them fly free again.

::~::

He doesn’t stay away from the Survey Corps for long. He doesn’t know what else to do – _hasn’t_ known anything beyond the Corps for over a decade.

Hanji is pleased to have him back, helping to train the cadets when his expertise is needed. The new kids are different: they’re complacent, they’re weak, and they have no sense of drive. They don’t feel the need to be quicker and stronger, because well –

“Why does it even matter?” one snarks to him after failing a basic maneuver. “There aren’t Titans around anymore.”

Levi stares at him, and the trainees who are a bit smarter recoil from the fury he emanates.

Later, he gets a stuttered apology from the boy, no doubt under Hanji’s orders.

But really, Levi isn’t quite sure what the cadet is apologizing for.

\--

He gets restless at night; midnight comes and goes, but sleep is perpetually elusive.

It used to be easy: he would steal into Erwin’s office (for Erwin slept little, and left his office even less), lounge on the hard couch there that came to serve as Levi’s second bed. Erwin never said anything about it, not even the first time mere days after Levi had pointed a blade to his throat and cut into his skin. The quiet scratching of Erwin’s quill, the dry rustle of parchment – it lulled him into a state of peacefulness, drove both the intrusive thoughts and the emptiness out of his mind.

It had become a habit; these days he finds himself at the door of the Commander’s office, hand on the doorknob already before he realizes, remembers that Erwin hasn’t set foot in here in over a year.

Sometimes he leaves, hands fisted so tightly as he strides back to his room that little red crescents appear in his palms the next morning. Other times he pushes open the door, knowing Hanji isn’t likely to be in the office when she could be in her laboratory. He sits in that familiar couch, on the familiar hard cushions, in the familiar room, but all he can hear is his own breathing, and the sound of it makes him cringe, makes his fingers curl into claws against the velvet upholstery but that doesn’t stop them from trembling and trembling –

He leaves before Hanji can come back and find him shaking in her office.

\--

There’s a banquet in Sina to celebrate the second anniversary of the Titans’ defeat. Levi’s invited as a guest of honour, and somehow Hanji convinces him to attend.

He regrets it the moment he steps out of the carriage, the heel of his boot clicking against polished white marble – _standard_ , he thinks with no shortage of disgust, _in Sina._ A single square foot of this could probably feed a family of three for a week in the Underground.

Despite it being her fault he’s here, Hanji leaves him with little more than a wave of her hand, and Moblit rushes after her to stop her from going on about vivisections to the nobles. Levi settles in a corner of the ballroom, snatching a drink from one of the countless milling servers. He doesn’t know what’s in it, only that it burns as it goes down his throat. He gets only a few minutes of peace.

“You’re Levi, right? Humanity’s Strongest?”

Tall, gangly limbs. A messy mop of red hair. Levi eyes him dispassionately.

“It’s an honour to meet you – I’ve heard so much about you,” he says, and there’s something oddly familiar about the way he smiles, hazel eyes alight with reverence. The youth sticks his hand out, only to retract it awkwardly as Levi ignores it. His eyes are eager; undeterred, he goes on, “Could you tell me about your fight with the Female Titan? I heard you and that half-Japanese girl – Mika? Mikaso? – you two were unbelievable!”

There’s a small crowd starting to listen in; hungry eyes, ravenous for stories about the defeated monsters. They look at Levi like he’s prey – or worse, like he’s entertainment. Off to the side, Hanji seems to have noticed; she’s stopped talking about venule cannulations with the pale-faced noble beside her, and there’s grim concern in her eyes.

Levi pushes away from the wall, near-empty drink in hand. He leans in close to the youth’s ear.

“If you want to hear stories, I’ll tell you stories. I’ll tell you how the Titans ate our soldiers, tore their limbs out of their sockets, how comrades watched comrades die, screaming in agony. How they pleaded for mercy, screaming and begging in their last moments in this world. Because those are the stories I know. Those are the stories _all_ the soldiers know. But, those aren’t the stories you want to hear, are they?”

He pulls away, notes the paleness of the youth’s face. Notes the appalled expressions of the other nobles who had been close enough to hear. Satisfaction runs through him, empty and cold and hard as he begins to walk away. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you, sir,” comes the youth’s voice, thin. Meek. “It’s just … my big sister always spoke highly of you. I’m not sure if you remember her, but – she was on your squad. Her name was Petra.”

Levi freezes, and a chill runs through him.

The ballroom disappears – all he can see is the forest, enormous trees all around. Soft, filtered light illuminating Petra’s mangled corpse, her empty eyes – such a far cry from the lively, graceful girl –

Petra, hands clasped together in delight as she agrees – _Yes, yes – thank you, sir!_ –that she’ll join Levi’s squad –

Petra, bickering and laughing with Auruo on horseback as they canter across the training field, not paying attention to the crannies in the ground –

Petra, grim determination on her face as she swings down, blades flashing across Titan flesh –

Petra, kneeling on the other side of the soldier’s body, bright tears in her eyes and sorrow in her voice as she tells Levi, _He’s dead. I couldn’t save him –_

Petra, telling Eren that he had made the right decision in trusting them.

“… wished that I knew how she had died, or at least how her killer had been captured, sir. Truly, I meant no offense.”

The ballroom comes back slowly in hazy patches. Levi stares at the imprint of his lips on the rim of the wineglass. He feels sick. There are tiny ripples in the amber liquid – he forces his hand to be still, forces it back under his control before he speaks.

“She was one of the finest soldiers I’ve had the privilege of leading. Her contributions were immense. Her legacy will not be forgotten.” The words sound hollow even to his ears. Meaningless to the girl whose smile would never grace a room again.

He hears the boy – Petra’s brother – with appreciation in his voice but the words pass through him – _cut_ through him like those blades across the nape of a Titan’s neck –

He leaves as soon as the boy is done, holds himself together until he’s outside and far from the manor. With nobody but the moon and the stars to witness it, the wineglass drops from his hands, shattering. The liquid spills onto the white marble, dark as blood in the pale moonlight.

He can’t stop the shaking.

::~::

It’s another year before he starts to realize how long it’s been.

He knows that Erwin is outside the walls, for if he were within them Levi would have heard at least some whisper of his whereabouts, his condition.

He knows it’s stupid. He _knows_ there are no more Titans, _knows_ Erwin must be safe, _knows_ Erwin is more than capable of fending off mere wildlife even if he does only have one arm –

Yet he can’t quash the fears.

Can’t stop himself from wondering if Erwin’s phantom pain has persisted (weeks after the incident, he’d been in pain so severe that Levi had had to stay with him those few nights), if he’s having trouble finding food (what with his one arm), if he’s able to prepare the food (Erwin hadn’t cooked a day in his military life), if he’s having regular bowel movements –

He _can’t_ quash the fears, because he’d been by Erwin’s side for over a decade, protecting him, and the one time he’d left him had been the time Erwin had lost an arm and nearly died.

“It sounds like you’re worried about him,” Hanji says in one of her rare moments of sobriety. She looks up from her devil’s brew of the day: some brown, bubbling liquid in a rounded flask.

“I’m not worried,” Levi snaps. A reflex. “Who said I was worried about his shitty ass?”

Hanji sighs, though it’s probably directed more at her concoction, which all of a sudden stopped bubbling. “Look, Levi, if you’re so concerned about him, I can tell you where he’s gone as long as you keep it to yourself. Or I’ll let you know the next time he comes by.”

He forgets his feigned indifference. “He comes by?”

Behind the smudged lenses, Hanji rolls her eyes at the quickness of his response. “Of course he does. Occasionally, anyway – to restock on necessities. Do you think he uses leaves for toilet paper or something?”

Levi’s insides do a disgusted little shiver, and his facial expression elicits a laugh from Hanji.

But if Erwin had returned, why hadn’t he visited Levi? Why hadn’t there been any news of him whatsoever? Surely at least one soldier not sworn to secrecy, would have seen him; the news should have spread like wildfire. Had he spoken to others, and not Levi?

Levi’s insides shiver again, but this time it’s for an entirely different reason.

“Shit, hot, hot!” Hanji exclaims suddenly, nearly dropping the flask. The liquid is bubbling again; Hanji looks delighted despite the angry redness of her burned skin. “Moblit, get the ether! Quickly!”

Levi shows himself out before Hanji can burn down the entire laboratory with him inside.

\--

The attitude of the general populace towards the Survey Corps had changed quickly after the Titans were eradicated. Civilians – middle-class citizens, farmers, and nobles alike – finally saw the outcome of decades of work, the end result of all the deaths they had all at one point deemed pointless and in vain.

Upon their return from the final expedition, the Survey Corps had been met with raucous cheers and endless praise. The younger soldiers had been overjoyed at the hero-worship – but for the veterans, it was little less than a slap in the face for every time they’d returned, hearts already heavy with grief for fallen comrades only to be met with jeers and threats, sometimes even rotting food thrown in their direction.

For Levi, what he could not forgive was how the commoners had targeted Erwin, calling him _monster, inhuman, heartless._ Yet they never understood him – will never understand him. Erwin is celebrated now, seen as the resilient, indestructible leader that had spear-headed humanity’s triumph.

Oh, but Levi has known all along that Erwin was simple to break.

\--

Eren, Mikasa, Armin, and the other officers all help prepare a surprise party for Hanji’s birthday, and she only arrives on time because Moblit lures her away from the laboratory with mentions of a promising new compound they’d found in the intertidal zone off the coast.

She blinks owlishly behind her thick laboratory goggles when they shout “Surprise!” and duck out from behind cabinets and desks and closet doors.

A group of cadets accost her, marching her over to the birthday cake atop which thirty-five lit candles sit. Raucous singing breaks out soon after, and Levi mutters darkly to Mikasa, “The little shits already got into the alcohol.”

But the party goes on without a glitch. Hanji’s laughing hysterically after her fifth birthday shot at something Armin’s said, and soon Moblit’s trying to keep her from falling over. The cadets are drinking freely, dancing to the new-age music that Levi can’t stand. Mikasa smiles at him, rueful before Eren tugs her away onto the dance floor.

Levi doesn’t join in; keeps to the side, drink in hand. When the toasts commence, wishing Hanji a long, prosperous life and praising her as one of the most ingenious commanders to date, Levi stares at the rim of his glass. It’s completely still.

Idly, he wonders if Erwin would smiled as brightly as Hanji.

\--

Later, Hanji whispers to Moblit, expression just a tad devastated, “So you didn’t actually find the anemone antioxidant?”

\--

It’s almost dawn when they finish cleaning up.

Eren’s drunk as hell, and Mikasa bids Levi hasty goodnight before she and Armin haul him out, leaving Levi with just Hanji and Moblit. There are presents on a table, boxes and cards of all sizes and shapes for Hanji, who’s maintained her reputation as an eccentric, yet a trustworthy and kind leader.

Currently however, she’s giggling to herself on the couch, nursing her umpteenth drink; her fiancé, for whom Levi has never felt sorrier, looks frazzled as he cleans up the corner of the room where someone had been sick.

“Here,” Levi says, unceremoniously dropping an envelope into her hands. She accepts it with a hiccup, finishes off the drink before turning her attention to it.

When Hanji opens Levi’s present, her smile fades. Moblit looks up, frowns at Levi, misunderstanding.

“This is…” She picks up the photograph by the top corner, pinches carefully between her thumb and index finger. “That old picture of Erwin’s, isn’t it?”

“A copy. I found it in his possessions – there’s a place in Mitras now where you can make copies of photos.” He hesitates, not knowing what to say when Hanji’s quiet – she’s never this quiet. “It’s not much, I know –”

“No,” she murmurs, moisture gathering in her eyes. Levi doesn’t know where to look. “It’s everything.”

It’s a picture of the old Survey Corps officers that Erwin used to keep in his drawer. Levi had found it one day while cleaning, and since then Hanji had always teased Erwin about being a sentimental sap.

Erwin’s in the middle, with Mike and Dita on his left, Hanji and Levi, scowling because he hadn’t wanted to be in the picture, on his right; slightly behind them, Nanaba, Eld, Auruo, and little Petra, who has to stand on her tippy-toes to see over Hanji’s shoulders. Dita’s mare is chewing on his bandana, and his face is alight with amusement as he tries to tug it away from her. Mike’s not looking into the camera, body angled towards Nanaba like a sunflower seeking its light; Nanaba’s smiling, face rueful yet so very pleased.

They look so alive that it’s hard to believe that they’re all gone, save for himself, Hanji, and Erwin.

Only, sometimes Levi forgets that Erwin’s still alive.

::~::

It creeps up on him. He doesn’t realize until Mikasa points it out to him, after that he hasn’t gone drinking with them, not even when Jean was promoted to Squad Leader of the Stohess district.

 The alcohol makes things worse, makes the shaking harder to control. It makes the memories surface more easily, makes something as simple as the redness of Mikasa’s scarf spark a whole slew of images in his mind – _bloody hands reaching for him – gaping mouths – exposed muscle_ –

He holds it in.

“Even if you’re twenty now, you’re still a brat to me,” he glowers, not without great fondness. And then it slips out without him even noticing – “Erwin never went out with us, that old man.”

His jaw snaps shut. He’s gotten too comfortable, sometimes lets things slip around this girl. They’re similar, in some ways – stubborn, blunt, single-minded.

Mikasa looks at him then – really looks at him with understanding blossoming in those dark, piercing eyes of hers. Yet she doesn’t say anything, and Levi appreciates that more than she’ll ever know.

She looks away, offers his mare a sugar cube as he adjusts the bridle, making sure the reins aren’t tangled.

“Going out?” she asks, voice kept casual.

“Just to the fields.” The ones just outside the walls, the ones Mikasa knows he frequents these days.

“Alright.” She hesitates, hand brushing the mare’s nose. “Just … you’ll let us know, won’t you? When it’s time?”

His lips tighten. He braces his hands on the saddle, swinging his torso up with practiced grace. Mikasa moves only slightly to the side, still blocking the stable exit. “Hanji will forget about her shitty reports if I don’t remind her. She’ll leave the burner on in the lab or some dumb shit like that. She’ll forget to sleep. She’ll eat crap, and then not be able to shit for a week. She’ll –”

“Heichou,” Mikasa cuts across, despite how many times he’s told her he’s not her captain anymore. “Hanji has Moblit to take care of her. You’re not really thinking of her, are you?”

He digs his heels in. The horse snorts, pushes past Mikasa.

\--

The clouds hang low, casting looming shadows over the yellowed grasses; tiny droplets of rain sting at his skin. The coldness has rendered his hands numb, but he can’t tell over his mare’s bumpy movements if they’re trembling.

As he urges her into a canter and lifts his hips off the saddle, the wind carding through his hair, his pulse racing, it almost feels as if he’s flying again.

Almost.  

\--

Levi gets the feeling that Hanji knows, as soon as he walks into the Commander’s office.

“You look like shit,” he says bluntly before she can say anything. “Why are you still awake?”

Hanji grins despite the dark circles under her eyes, elbows resting against the table. “Breakthrough with the antioxidant. With this, we might be able to prevent –”

“You should sleep,” he interrupts. But he doesn’t make any move to leave.

She regards him for a few long moments, then sighs, leaning back into the chair. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches forward, picks up the picture frame that sits on her messy desk; the newest addition to the clutter.

“When was the last time he came back?”

“Nearly a year ago now,” Hanji murmurs. “The time between visits have gotten longer.”

Since that last time, Levi hasn’t brought the topic up, hasn’t so much as mentioned Erwin save for that slip-up with Mikasa. He places the frame back on the desk, looks at Hanji, eye-to-eye.

“You said you know where he is.”

\--

She gives him the map – a worn piece of parchment that dons Erwin’s messy left-handed scrawl.

“It’s all he left with us,” she says, rueful. “I don’t even know how accurate it is, because we’ve never tried to find him.”

“Thank you,” he says simply, folding the parchment lightly before tucking it away.

Just as he’s about to exit, Hanji speaks up again.

“Are you angry with him for leaving? For leaving you?”

“No,” he says, automatic, then hesitates. His hand, resting on the doorknob, is entirely still; under control. He says, more firmly, “No. It’s just something I need for myself. For closure.”

 

* * *

 

It’s always noisy in the mornings, raucous seagulls and crashing waves serving to wake Erwin up at the break of dawn. He doesn’t mind it though; he appreciates that he can enjoy the beauty of sunrise every day, looking out upon an endless expanse of water upon which weak rays of sunlight dance.

The first days here were difficult. Starting up the garden, adjusting the water filtration system, fixing the ancient, abandoned cottage to a useable standard – with his single arm, it’s been a struggle. But it was well worth the struggle to now be able to call this cove that he’d seen in his father’s books his home.

He doesn’t keep track of time anymore, just lives day to day with the rise and fall of the tides, the waxing and waning of the moon. So he doesn’t know how long he’s been away from civilization when there’s a sharp rap at his door.

It takes him a moment to realize that the appropriate course of action is to answer the door. He hesitates, retracts the hand that had reached for a paring knife on his counter.

There’s another rap on the door, louder this time, insistent.

He doesn’t have a peephole out of which he can look, because he never expected to have company, so gingerly, he opens the door.

For three heartbeats they lock eyes – ocean blue and coal grey. Then all the breath comes out of him in a hasty rush.

He hears his own incredulous voice, unrecognizably rough with disuse:

“Levi?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops I nerded out with Hanji. fyi she's discovering the Grignard reaction (ochem lab memories) in the lab, though I guess it'd be called the Zoe reaction...
> 
> thanks to JP for edits and dealing with my 24/7 fangirling in general :') <3


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he wakes in the morning, he finds himself in Erwin’s one-armed embrace, and he doesn’t fight it, not even a little.
> 
> It’s a slow seduction, but Levi knows he’s falling fast.

Wanderlust had set in like a winter chill, starting as a feeble stirring in his bones and radiating outwards, intensity increasing and increasing until he had been aching with it.

Erwin had held it in – had held himself together – for a week before he’d started making plans with Hanji, passing the weighty title of Commander over to her capable hands. He’d had no doubts about her ability to lead expeditions that would help humanity flourish again, and he looked forward to hearing – in due time – of the discoveries and the scientific advancements in which he was certain she would take part.

He had never really let himself consider what they might do after they had won, that the Titans would be eradicated in this lifetime. He had never let himself be so optimistic as to dream up the possibilities, because Erwin Smith was nothing if not a realistic man. When the time really came, certainly he had felt joy. Certainly he had felt joy and triumph and elation like all the other soldiers.

Yet there had been something oddly hollow about it, as if when the Titans had disappeared, they left along with an integral part of him. He had felt cheated almost, conned out of some consummate happiness he’d thought would inevitably ensue. He’d supposed it had just been too long since he’d strived for anything but to drive the titans to extinction; it had become the most fundamental part of him, the very core of what defined him. Along with the emptiness had come the guilt – not that he regretted his decisions that led humanity to victory, rather the realization that so many of his comrades were gone, unable to revel in the freedom, had been crushing. The realization had set in, took up residence in his mind with a numbing sort of feeling.

He had left with nothing but a small pack of necessities, his father’s old atlas, and just one tiny, niggling seed of regret.

It was nothing, he had told himself firmly. It was nothing at all.

* * *

He’s grown a beard, lost the musculature he’d had during his time as Commander. His skin is weathered, a small sunspot developing on the bridge of his nose; his cheeks are lightly dusted with faint little freckles that Levi’s never seen before on him, and his lips are slightly chapped. The standard military undercut has grown out into straggly blonde hair. Protruding from the sleeveless shirt he’s wearing, the stump of his right arm looks entirely healed, shiny white scar tissue replacing the once-gaping wound.

But what hasn’t changed about Erwin is the sharp light in his eyes, the intensity of his cerulean gaze.

Levi feels all of nineteen again, flying through the Underground with stolen gear – the first time he’d seen that gaze. Goosebumps skitter up his arms – he hasn’t flown in years, yet there’s the same light-headed giddiness, the same squeezing sensation in his chest.

His lips twist into a wry smile at Erwin’s roughened voice. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Erwin. Four years since I’ve last seen you.”

Erwin blinks slowly, surprised. “Has it really,” he murmurs, eyes finally leaving Levi’s, distant as he looks across the ocean that serves as his front yard. The blue of his eyes reflects it.

His gaze refocuses, seeming to take in Levi properly this time, appraising his simple white shirt, his dark tunic and trousers.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners? Please, do come in.”

His left arm reaches across his body awkwardly to hold the door open, but it’s with much more grace than Levi recalls: he’s adapted to the loss of his arm in the years he’s been away. Idly, Levi wonders if Erwin’s adapted as much to solitude.

He remembers the talk of the townsfolk. _The Commander’s right hand_ , he’d been called. _His sword, carrying out his bidding; his faithful, feral dog. His lover,_ they’d said. Yet the two of them had never touched beyond tight shoulder squeezes after expeditions, the ache of grief in their chests. Brief touches, never more, for that was the nature of their profession – brief intersections of lives before real-life monsters snuffed the light out. Never had Levi entertained the thought that both of them would survive.

The strong, solid line of Erwin’s back makes Levi’s throat close up as he follows to the kitchen. How many times had he stared at Erwin’s back, the line of it jilted by a horse’s gallop? There’s an overwhelming urge to reach out, grab it, make sure that Erwin’s really there.

As soon as Levi enters however, he freezes in his tracks. Erwin turns back quizzically.

“Is that … is that _mould_ in your sink?”

\--

They end up eating an hour later, after Levi’s scrubbed down every inch of the dining table and sink with disgusted rigour. The leaky faucet drips still, but the sink has been scrubbed clean.

“I don’t even _want_ to see your cooking utensils,” he’d hissed, face contorted into an angry scowl. The expression is so familiar to Erwin that he can’t help but smile, albeit with a pang in his chest. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been lonely. He’d missed having company around, and he’d missed having Levi around, the furrow in his brows a permanent fixture. He doesn’t know if he can cope with being alone again, not with Levi’s visit reminding him of what he’s left behind.

They eat in near-silence, the steady _drip-drip_ of the tap the only sound, but it’s a companionable atmosphere. Levi hasn’t changed much, Erwin thinks to himself. Except –

Except there’s the subtle laxness with which he holds himself now, no longer the terseness in his slight shoulders, the rigidity of his spine. He still eats delicately with lips firmly closed between bites, still picks up his cup of tea by the rim with his thumb and index finger, blows on the hot liquid and inhales the scent of the tea before drinking –

“What are you staring at?” Levi asks, not exactly accusatory. His tone is more curious than anything else, his right brow arched.

Erwin’s lips quirk in chagrin around his mouthful of chickpeas. Every expression, every nuance – it feels so strangely right that Levi is here with him in this place he calls home. He swallows the bolus of food.

“Just wondering how long you’ll be here,” he says instead.

Levi’s brow raises even more. “I just got here, and you’re already asking me to leave? Tch, your manners have certainly gone to shit out here. Could it be that the impeccable Erwin Smith has become uncivilized? Now how will you charm the nobles and secure funding? What a loss for the Survey Corps.”

His former Captain’s tone is mocking, mildly antagonistic, but Erwin sees past it. There’s a slight quaver in his quips, a subtle anxiety underlying his sharp tone. It doesn’t escape Erwin’s notice that Levi hasn’t answered his question.

Erwin waits, a mild smile playing on his lips.

He can tell when Levi’s realized he’s caught on by the glare that’s directed at him. “Your place is a mess – I can’t believe you lived here for four years on your own. Did you not clean at all? That’s just like you, being so absent-minded you can’t clean up after yourself –”

“Levi,” he interrupts, and his smile is full-blown now. He can feel his dry lips crack a little bit – he hasn’t smiled so widely, not in a long time. “You are welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

Levi regards him warily, parts his lips as if about to retort before snapping them back shut, seeming to think better of it.

Erwin’s hand twitches, but he stops himself from reaching across the table to fold his fingers around Levi’s hand. Instead, his grip tightens around the fork, the thought of the touch sending tingles all the way up his arm and down to his toes.

“It’s good to have you back,” he says, instead.

\--

Erwin offers to sleep on the couch. Levi waves away the suggestion with a dismissive scowl.

“It’s your bed,” he says, corner of his mouth twisting (in displeasure? Erwin isn’t sure).

They end up sleeping in the same bed, facing away from each other. Despite Levi’s nonchalance, his shoulders are stiff as he huddles in his own blankets on his half of the bed (though due to his size, he only takes up a third, really), as if fearing he’ll trespass onto Erwin’s side, that he’ll infringe on some sort of unspoken boundary between the two of them.

It makes Erwin’s heart contort in strange ways in the morning when Levi wakes up, sheets all twisted around his legs and waist, eyes opening wide with disbelief – and something akin to delight, he thinks – when he sees Erwin before the curtain comes down again, masking that unguarded happiness.

Erwin wonders what he’s hiding from.

**::~::**

It starts slowly, with a simple question a week later: “Where are your razor blades?”

Erwin doesn’t use them often; there’s no need for a clean-shaven face when his own reflection in the mornings is the only time he’s ever seen, and the nicks and cuts he gets from trying just aren’t worth the trouble, though the stubble does irritate him sometimes. He keeps an untouched stash in a small cabinet in the washroom, and he directs Levi there.

Levi nods his thanks.

Then, “You don’t shave anymore.”

It’s not exactly a question, but Erwin answers anyway. “It’s difficult,” he says with only slight hesitation. He knows he doesn’t have to pretend, not with Levi. He raises his left arm. “I usually end up making a mess of myself.”

The look on Levi’s face isn’t pitying.

“Then you should have asked me to do it for you,” he says stonily.

Levi doesn’t wait for him to respond. He pushes at Erwin’s chest with unexpected strength, forcing Erwin to sit down on a nearby stool. Erwin’s face is level with Levi’s abdomen; he casts his gaze downwards, forcing himself to stare at the tiled floor. Slender fingers grip his chin firmly, twisting his face to the side briefly before letting go. Yet the pressure of those digits lingers.

The slide of the cold blade along his jaw is a practiced, smooth motion. Once, twice, thrice. He can hear the quiet scrape of the metal against the hairs. _Scratch-scratch_. The blade is lifted, and Levi’s fingers brush along the smooth, sensitized area.

Erwin inhales softly, involuntary, and Levi’s fingers retract immediately as if burned.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, voice husky, and then it’s only the coolness of the blade for the rest of the process.

When he’s done, Levi uses a towel to dab roughly at Erwin’s face, as if careful not to touch him directly. As he puts the towel away, Erwin’s hand catches Levi’s wrist, fingers circling gently enough that Levi can easily break his hold.

Levi doesn’t look at him, simply freezes in place, eyes averted.

It doesn’t escape him that this is the first time they’ve intentionally touched in over four years.

“Thank you, Levi,” he breathes, before his former captain pulls away.

\--

They fall into a routine without the intention of doing so.

In the mornings Levi wakes first, for Erwin’s years of neglecting sleep in favour of doing paperwork have caught up to him; in the mornings sleep clings to the former Commander like honey. The roar of the ocean is disconcerting to Levi the first few mornings, and it makes him leave the room, brewing tea, bags of which line Erwin’s cupboards. A small ration of plain home-made bread goes down with the tea for breakfast.

As Erwin wakes and eats breakfast, Levi bathes. Access to water and the freedom to take longer than a combat shower allows him to be meticulous; it’s during this time that he feels the most at peace. Erwin takes the washroom after him, and Levi would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy seeing Erwin’s hair wet and mussed after the shower, skin rosy pink from his cheeks to his bare chest.

They tend to the garden together before the sun’s rays become harsh, opting usually for a late lunch. Erwin is slow but patient, having developed an efficient method of shoveling with his only hand. Weeding is left to Levi: Erwin’s discriminatory eye for plants isn’t as sharp as his military prowess, and many times he’s discarded precious crop.

At the hottest point of the day, they nap. Levi knows the younger soldiers would have found it funny; he can hear Jean and Eren in his mind already, sniggering.

Dinner is a simple affair, and neither of them eats much. In the evenings, they drink tea, sitting quietly on the porch, overlooking the ocean until night falls. They don’t say much; sometimes Erwin reads. For people like them, there are simply too many memories to revisit.

At night, the awkward tension doesn’t disappear. They’re careful not to touch as they settle in to sleep; blankets are carefully tucked on each man’s own side. Yet somehow in the mornings, Levi always seems to wake up feeling the warmth of Erwin’s body, scant inches away.

The days begin to blend together, but Levi finds that he doesn’t mind. ~~~~

\--

As the weather becomes colder, the days grow shorter. In the afternoons, the skies bleed into red in a beautiful display of colours.

“It doesn’t get too cold around here,” Erwin says one evening. There’s an open book on his lap, but his hand lies serenely, splayed across the neglected pages. “But in other places, in the winters, they say ice falls from the skies.”

“Ice?”

“Soft ice,” Erwin corrects himself, “called snow. Like tiny little pieces of clouds.”

The prospect of _snow_ is ludicrous; Levi snorts before taking another sip of tea. But Erwin’s eyes are lit up as he speaks of how soft the flakes of it are, how each _snowflake_ is unique and intricate; the blue of his eyes reflects the hazy glow of the retiring sun.

“We’ll go there sometime,” he promises as he gazes at Levi.

Levi looks up, surprised at this mention of the future. It seems like he’s been here forever, and it seems like nothing will change for the two of them. Besides, he doesn’t need it to change.

He’s not as enthusiastic about the cold as Erwin seems to be, but the idea of a journey, something with just the two of them, unfurls a strange warmness within him.

Below them, beyond the cliffs, the sounds of ocean aren’t so foreign anymore. He’s gotten used to them; in fact, it feels strange when they’re in the forest, and the sounds are absent. It’s become a part of his home, he realizes. Their home.

He sips at his tea again to hide a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah,” he says, not looking at Erwin. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

\--

That night as they retire to bed, Erwin stops, gaze travelling questioningly over the single blanket neatly folded on the bed. Its twin, the blanket Levi had been using up until then, sits in the closet, where Levi had put it earlier that day.

He doesn’t answer Erwin’s unspoken question; simply climbs onto the bed, tucking his feet into the blanket and pulling the sheets up to his chest. His feet are cold.

“You better not hog the blankets,” he says with a glower, but really, his pulse is racing as Erwin scrutinizes him, looking as if he might ask _What’s the meaning of this, Levi?_

But after a few moments, a fond smile works its way into Erwin’s lips, which makes Levi scowl as the other man settles in beside him wordlessly. He’s warm – _unfairly so_ , Levi thinks. Promptly he presses his icy-cold toes to Erwin’s calf, slight vindictive satisfaction filling him when the other man hisses softly. Yet Erwin doesn’t move away, and like every night, Levi falls asleep to the rhythm of his steady breaths.

\--

_Drip. Drip._

Crimson lips, darkened where the blood has clotted. Red just like Isabel’s hair.

Dark, empty eyes staring out from a mop of brown hair. _Levi_ , Farlan calls. But those eyes see through him, lifeless.

_Drip, drip, drip._

Erd and Gunther, strung up like meat at the butcher’s. Auruo’s not far off, body broken, dark blood seeping into soil. Slumped against the tree, broken limbs outflung as if pleading for mercy – Petra.

Levi wakes gasping, clutching at cold sheets. Sometime during the night, Erwin’s moved to the other side of the bed, likely out of habit the past few weeks. The steady dripping of the faucet is loud in Levi’s ears, no matter how tightly he presses against the pillow. It’s the same sound that had kept him up the night Isabel and Farlan died, for the Survey Corps cabins were leaky and old. And the same sound on so many other nights he’d mourned – countless faces, some of them fading into the recesses of time, flash before him in the din.

 _Don’t deserve to be called Humanity’s Strongest_ , the nasty voice in his mind whispers. _You let them all die._

His jaw clenches, his hands fist in the sheets. He hates that he still has these nightmares; hates that he still can’t control it. His hands are shaking again – it hasn’t been this bad, not in a long while.

 _It’s over,_ he berates himself. _There are no more Titans. Humanity is safe, safe and free_ , repeats it like a mantra.

There’s movement behind him. Erwin shifts, the mattress dipping to accommodate his movement.

“Levi?” he murmurs in the dark, and for a moment Levi considers feigning sleep.

“It’s nothing,” he says instead, but he knows Erwin won’t buy it for a second. He knows that Erwin understands immediately. The bed groans again; Erwin’s warmth is closer, and for a different reason this time, Levi shivers.

“Will it help to know I’m here?” Erwin asks. His voice is uncharacteristically hesitant.

He’s not sure what Erwin means, not until the other man moves closer, drapes a hesitant arm across Levi’s form. Levi forgets how to breathe for a moment.

“Is this alright?” comes Erwin’s murmur, and Levi forces himself to inhale.

He can feel Erwin along the entire line of his body even through the layers of their clothing, and the warmth, the smell, the feeling of being so close to Erwin – it’s intoxicating and it’s comforting, and for once it feels like he’s really  _safe_. He nods, concentrating on the sound of Erwin’s steady breaths. Soon the rhythm slows, and Levi succumbs to sleep.

When he wakes in the morning, he finds himself in Erwin’s one-armed embrace, and he doesn’t fight it, not even a little.

It’s a slow seduction, but Levi knows he’s falling fast.

::~::

The spring rains bring in an ample crop from the garden, and soon their meals abound with fresh carrots and radishes, morels from the forest.

Levi catches a cold – something he hasn’t experienced for _decades_ , he swears – and Erwin goes out, leaving him curled up in a cocoon of blankets and towels that serve as makeshift blankets, sniffling and red-nosed on the couch. He’s bored as hell and a little bit lonely (although he’ll never admit to it), so he retrieves Erwin’s heavy atlas, bringing it to the couch.

The book is leather-bound, the thick musty pages yellowed with age. Yet the colours of the landscapes it shows are vibrant still, the blue-and-white hues of the sky as alive as Levi’s seen with his own eyes. Just as Erwin had said, there are pictures of soft ice - _snowflakes_ , countless variations of spokes and needles detailed in black-and-white sketches.

(Levi doesn’t believe it – surely such beautiful things can’t be so tiny.)

Yet the pictures of the ocean, something that he wouldn’t have believed existed scant years ago, is now something he sees every day. It feels surreal.

The sound of Erwin’s boots alerts Levi before the door opens. Groggy, he only looks up briefly, about to close his eyes again when he sees it.

He’s on his feet in seconds, snatching one of the towels from the cocoon, nearly tackling Erwin as he wraps the white linen around Erwin’s bleeding hand. His heart is pumping overtime, epinephrine coursing through his bloodstream.

Red means Titans. Red means pain. Red means _death_.

But there are no Titans.

“What the fuck, Erwin,” Levi says flatly, his mind distant and reeling, but there’s a multitude of emotions blooming inside him just like the blood seeping into the fabric. The redness of the blood brings back countless flashes of memories; Levi has to repress a shudder. He speaks again, and this time his voice is brimming with anger. “What happened?”

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” Erwin says, blue eyes confused. “My hand caught in this when dismantling it, that’s all.”

He has the gall to laugh, and his hand uncurls gingerly from around a barbed contraption – a rabbit trap. There’s a soft thump as he drops a sack on the floor, presumably with the caught rabbit. The blood is bright against the dull metal.

Levi grabs his hand, examines it. Finds that the flesh between Erwin’s thumb and index finger is what’s wounded. As his own heartbeat begins to subside, it’s replaced by a now-familiar coldness – the feeling of being out of place. He doesn’t belong in this life, where the most frightening wounds come from foraging accidents.

( _Blood means pain. Blood means death. Erwin-)_

He fights to ignore the impending shivers, the coldness. He doesn’t belong here.

“Levi,” comes Erwin’s voice, gentle yet stern, and that’s how Levi can tell Erwin _fucking_ _knows_ , gets it like nobody else. The sound brings him back, makes him realize his hands are shaking as they clench around Erwin’s wrist. He feels numb. With great effort, he unclenches them, wraps the towel around as best he can, tying a knot.

“Thank you,” Erwin says calmly, flexing his crudely-bandaged hand.

“Don’t mention it,” Levi mutters as they head to the kitchen to prepare lunch.

\--

The kitchen fills with the delicious smell of rabbit stew. Levi pares some potatoes, freshly-picked cilantro and diced carrots to the side as Erwin watches over the simmering pot. There’s a dull look in Erwin’s eyes; he’s never enjoyed the admittedly slow process of cooking like Levi, instead seeing it as a necessary waste of time. A means to an end.

They don’t speak of the rabbit trap incident.

“It’s burning,” Levi says sharply, and Erwin hastily lifts the lid. Levi’s nose might not be as good as Mike’s had been, but the lonely years after humanity’s victory had tempered his nose into a fair detector for good cuisine.

He takes the lid from Erwin’s awkward grasp, sprinkling cilantro into the stew before adding water and replacing the lid.

Erwin smiles ruefully. “What would I do without you?” he says with a slight chuckle, unbearably fond, and it sends a hot pang through Levi’s chest. He walks back to the sink, picking up the paring knife.

“You avoided me for four years,” he says, tone forced light as his grip tightens. There’s the slightest tremble of his hand; he tries to quash it with violent intent, but it returns, making his vision blur. The newest half-pared potato lies neglected, next to the remaining pieces of carrot, neatly-chopped.

But Levi’s never been good at masking emotion, has never really bothered suppressing anger; he knows Erwin sees through the façade immediately. The atmosphere changes, and he hears Erwin flicking off the stove slowly, deliberately.

“Levi…”

Levi keeps his back turned, wishes he could take his words back – wishes he’d kept his mouth shut and this topic under tight lock. _Stupid._ He fidgets, keeps shifting the pieces of carrot around – _they’ll have to go into the salad tonight, but Erwin doesn’t like them raw –_

Erwin’s bandaged hand drops lightly onto his shoulder, and the buzzing thoughts dissipate like Titan steam. His hand unclenches from the knife. All he can focus on is that pressure on his shoulder, the faint warmth seeping through layers of fabric.

(How many times had he followed that commanding hand into hell?)

“Levi,” he says again, voice low.

“Drop it, Erwin.” He shrugs Erwin’s hand away, chest tight.

“My choice to leave had nothing to do with avoiding you. My role as Commander … my goals and my wishes for humanity were done and over. There was nothing left for me within the walls, you must understand.”

The knife falls with a dull clatter, and Levi moves quickly to the stove, removing the pot from the heat. The handles are painfully hot, but he doesn’t care – he needs to stay level-headed, needs to put some distance between them.

There’s a pause, and a soft exhale. “If anything, leaving you was my only regret, Levi.”

“You left without a single goodbye,” he snaps, unable to hold back. His logic tells him to stop; his heart refuses. Years of confusion, of longing, even of guilt. “I didn’t know for years if you were dead or alive. ‘Nothing left’ for you? There were your comrades and friends within the walls, Erwin. People who love you.”

He’d gone too far, hadn’t thought about the implications of his words. _Love?_ He considers this with a numbness he hadn’t expected to feel..

Erwin’s eyes are wide, staring at Levi. Yet there’s a set grimness to them, as if he’d expected this.

 _Of course_ , Levi thinks. Surprise isn’t something one associates with Erwin Smith.

“I had to leave,” he says, but it’s less firm this time. His blue gaze turns pleading, like he _needs_ Levi to understand now. “In peacetime, I no longer knew how to function. How could I look into the eyes of the men and women who had laid down their lives for me? How could I their eyes, knowing that they’re not alive because of me, but _in spite of me_? In spite of what I have ordered them to do?”

A flash of a memory: rain pouring down, horse hooves skidding in the mud and red misting the air. ‘ _Retreat. Leave them_.’ Screams from three young soldiers, fresh out of training, surrounded by Titans. The orders had come, and Levi had obeyed Erwin. He always had.

 _How could I look into_ your _eyes, Levi?_

The unspoken words hang stagnant between them.

“I don’t deserve to be amongst those who had risked their lives under my orders,” he finishes softly. “Nor their families. I had chosen something other than that happiness long ago.”

The faucet still drips.

“For what it’s worth, Levi … I am sorry for what I put you through.”

Levi closes the space between them in three swift strides. His toes are nearly touching Erwin’s, and he reaches up – for Erwin towers over him – and grasps Erwin’s chin, forcing Erwin’s face to tilt down.

“Look at me,” he says raggedly, and Erwin’s eyes are devastatingly pained, gaze fixing reluctantly on him. Before Erwin can spout more bullshit about not deserving happiness, he goes on, tightening his grip. “No, look at me, Erwin. None of us went into the Survey Corps thinking it’d be a fucking walk in Sina. We knew what the death rates were, and we knew that following your orders could be the last decision we ever made.” His voice quietens, brows softening their angry lines. “Yet we carried those orders out, because we trusted those decisions – we trusted _you_ to make the right decisions for us. For humanity. And while those very orders killed hundreds,” Levi’s voice cracks, very slightly, “it liberated hundreds of thousands. _You_ liberated us. We’re free, Erwin. Humanity is free.”

Their faces are scant inches apart. Levi can feel the faint puffs of Erwin’s breath on his upper lip, slightly warm: moist, but oddly non-aversive. He sees the quick bob of Erwin’s throat as he swallows, and the movement seems strained. Erwin’s gaze could cut diamonds, the intensity jarring, and this time it’s Levi who lets out a shaky breath.

Levi’s chest constricts with some strange feeling: there’s fondness and pride, but also something else that feels far, _far_ more foreign.

His hand moves from Erwin’s chin to his jaw slowly, then to the halo of golden hair. His fingers curl lightly in those sun-kissed strands – and they’re trembling terribly. Yet it’s almost like he’s watching someone else do it, twining fingers in Erwin’s hair. It doesn’t feel like himself, and _that_ makes it easier to stop the shaking.  

And so it’s someone else whose breath hitches as the look in Erwin’s eyes changes, changes into something that’s intent-filled, intimate. When Erwin moves closer with his eyes fluttering shut, lashes a curtain of burnt gold, it’s someone else who closes that distance between them; someone else who presses his lips to Erwin’s, hand fisting in tousled blond locks, knuckles digging into the divots of his skull, pulling Erwin closer, closer, and closer yet.

Someone else who parts his lips, beseechingly as his tongue slides along Erwin’s, moves to trace the jagged contours of Erwin’s teeth. Someone else who arches up on tippy-toes, just so that their bodies can press together more tightly, sucks at Erwin’s bottom lip. Someone else whose breaths are unsteady as he drinks in the taste of Erwin’s lips on his own, savouring the way that Erwin responds in kind, lips and tongue and teeth just slightly desperate against his.

Light prickles on the backs on his eyelids as Erwin pulls away, gentle. Levi swallows the noise of dissent that lodges in his throat. His hand unclenches from Erwin’s hair, drops unceremoniously to his side as he takes a shaky step backwards.

The regretful look in Erwin’s eyes makes Levi grit his teeth, his stomach dropping, and he cuts across before Erwin can utter the godforsaken words of apology.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he grinds out, stomach knotting like hopelessly tangled 3DMG straps. “Don’t fucking take it back.”

_At least let me have this._

He wipes his hands hastily on his trousers, moist with perspiration, stalks out of the kitchen without looking back. Outside the house, his breaths come too shallowly to take in the fresh air. He doesn’t know why, but his eyes are stinging and hot, his chest too tight for comfort. He touches an unsteady finger to his lips, then wipes his mouth angrily with the back of his hand.

He can still taste Erwin on his lips, bittersweet.

* * *

The routine doesn’t change. Both of them go on, pretending as though nothing had happened, as if Levi hadn’t crossed an unspoken boundary, trespassed into uncharted waters. Even sleeping in the same bed (due to both their obstinacies, Levi thinks), very little changes, for Erwin has had decades of practice hiding emotions. Maybe he’s learned how not to feel them anymore.

Yet the same can’t be said for Levi. He wonders how Erwin sees him: as a reminder of the past, an unwanted souvenir from the war? There’s slightly more caution in the way they move around each other, like magnets refusing the pull of nature.

He wonders how long it’ll be until he’s no longer welcome.

This can’t last, Levi thinks to himself. And yet he hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT THE HELL IS BREVITY  
> I promise Part III will be the last one and that it will have frick-fracking. I was about 2000 words into it before I realized it was so long. But I really wanted to update this and didn’t want to rush the ending. What is my life this was supposed to be 5000 words in total STUPID BRAIN. I’M SO SORRY. Thank you for bearing with me.


	3. End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scars, scars, scars. They span Erwin's entire body, mapping out his whole life, drawn with the vicious blade of a ruthless cartographer. Levi kisses the scars as though he can kiss all the pain away – as if he can take all the pain unto himself, because Erwin never deserved this, not the guilt, not the scorn - _it should have been me, I couldn’t save them, it wasn’t you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to [TwistedKit](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedK) for comments on this! <3
> 
> (prepare for gratuitous porn because i was really tired after finals and needed a pick-me-up. also sorry for the most uncreative title for the last chapter of a story)

Levi is thrown into wakefulness when he hears the slam of the front door. He realizes quickly Erwin’s not in bed and in moments he’s on his feet, sprinting outside in his underwear and nightshirt.  

The very first moment makes him hiss – rain is falling in a torrential downpour, unforgivingly cold and stinging against his skin, and a few seconds is all it takes for him to be soaked to the bone. At the very least the iciness jolts him into wakefulness, and he scans the vicinity until he spots Erwin, kneeling in the middle of the muddy garden, mismatched shoulders hunched.  

“The fuck are you doing? Erwin?” 

The other man’s head jerks up, water dripping from his wet hair. His eyes are wild, pupils dilated. “The garden, Levi,” he chokes out, and at first Levi doesn’t understand, thinks Erwin’s gone mad. Then he looks where Erwin is pointing, sees the water-logged soil in the enclosure where they’d just planted the last of their wheat. Tiny speckles of grain float in the water, swishing in cesspools when Erwin’s fist comes down.  

“It’s gone, it’s all gone.” Erwin’s shoulders slump in defeat. “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault, Levi.” 

The words are tired, hollow. Worst of all, they sound familiar, and Levi knows it’s not the garden that’s really behind this reaction. Knows that telling Erwin they have food in storage, enough to last them months if needed, won’t help. Knows that this breakdown has been a long time coming, and yet Levi doesn’t know what to do. 

So he kneels beside Erwin, knees and feet caked in mud, a thousand words – condolences, insults, guilt-ridden apologies – hiding, steeping behind silent lips, never to be spoken. He’ll probably never get the filth out from under his toenails but right now he couldn’t care less.  

“I’m sorry,” Erwin says again, and there’s more composure this time despite the haunted look in his eyes, blue-gray in the dark, and Levi hates it. Hates the wall that Erwin's putting up. Anger simmers in him as he listens. “It’s always been my fault when it comes to you. It’s my fault that you had to join the Corps and fight for your life, and it was my fault that you had to kill so many…” A brief memory – the first time he’d heard Hanji’s theory that Titans were humans – Levi swallows back bile. “And in the end, I… I still can’t look at you. I’m sorry, Levi, for all I’ve done.” 

“ _Why_?” Levi grates out, and it's a small explosion. He knows he should stop and let Erwin sleep it off – they both need the sleep – but he can’t. He  _needs_  to know. “Why couldn’t you have told me before you left, Erwin? Why was I the last to know?” 

“Because,” Erwin says, voice weighing heavy like he doesn’t want to admit it, “you were the only one who could make me stay. And I couldn’t do that, Levi. I really couldn’t.” 

The words reach him slowly, sluggishly work through to his brain, before he understands. And in those moments he sees Erwin more clearly than ever before, recognizing the man who’s there behind the title of Commander. 

Scars, scars, scars. They span Erwin’s entire body, mapping out his whole life, drawn with the vicious blade of a ruthless cartographer.  _There_ , the gear wire had caught him seven years ago, out on an expedition without proper medical supplies;  _that’s_  from a sparring accident with Mike; and of course  _that one_ is from the interrogation by the Military Police. Then there are scars Levi doesn’t recognize, can’t decipher their secrets off Erwin’s body.  

But Levi has secrets of his own, scars etched into his skin with a cruel hand – his first knife-fight; his second expedition; Hanji’s carelessness with a suture; and when retrieving Eren – a hand Erwin’s convinced is entirely his own, and yet it's been Levi's decision to follow him into hell, time and time again.  

Levi moves slowly, reaching a hand out, drips more water onto Erwin’s already-soaked shirt. His knees shift in the mud, bringing him closer, and his lips pause for a brief moment before he kisses the scar from the gear wire on Erwin’s forearm.  

The tremble that goes through Erwin’s body is undeniable. Erwin’s hand catches in Levi’s hair – mud and all, weaving muck through the soaked strands – and then their mouths are crashing together, lips and teeth messy. Clumsy. Needy.  

The affirmation is enough for Levi; when Erwin pulls away gasping for breath, he lunges forward, kissing that scar again, and then the others, lips attacking the scarred skin of his right shoulder with the moonlight throwing the ridges of the poorly-healed tissue there into sharp silvery relief. He kisses the scars -  _I forgive you, you’re forgiven -_  as though he can kiss all the pain away –  _because I never blamed you –_  as if he can take all the pain unto himself –  _it should have been me –_  because Erwin never deserved this, not the guilt, not the scorn – _it was_ I _who couldn’t save them, it wasn’t you –_  

“Levi,” Erwin breathes out, and the sight of him – what with his disheveled hair and kiss-swollen lips – makes something clench in Levi’s chest.  

Heart in his throat, Levi stands up, the mud squelching at his feet. “We’re filthy,” he says gently. “Let’s go back inside.”  

\-- 

It’s graceless, the way they fall into one another; hands grope blindly, clutching fistfuls of damp fabric. Their lips meet, clashing like men half-starved, for the seconds it took them to get through the door and the years it'd taken them to get to this point, were far too many.  

Erwin tastes of rain, and of the too-sweet tea he always drinks. He backs Levi into the shower, the two of them stumbling, still fully-clothed. Levi’s hands roam over Erwin’s body restlessly, relentlessly as Erwin pulls the cord for shower water. It’s freezing cold at first – but Levi can’t bring himself to care.  

“Shit,” Levi bites out as Erwin drives him against the wall, hips not exactly grinding – no, it’s far less artful than that. Erwin’s heat surrounds him, encases him like a too-warm blanket in the summer,  _suffocates_  him really – yet all he can do is push back, stealing little gasps of air around the incessant pressure of Erwin’s lips. A curtain of water, now hot, surrounds them; a veil of mist hugs their entwined figures, mud and dirt and filth quickly filling the tub, and then draining away in a swirl of debris, leaving only traces of its existence. 

His hands grasp at the collar of Erwin’s nightshirt. He fumbles, and there’s a muted pop as two buttons fly off. The sound seems to jolt Erwin back to awareness, and the man’s eyes flutter open as if from a reverie, the sharp blueness of them boring into Levi’s. Erwin lifts his hand, the rough pad of his thumb stroking along Levi’s jawline.  

The motion is so tender that Levi’s throat closes up, and he reaches up to kiss Erwin again. He undoes the last buttons of Erwin’s shirt before he tugs off his own; the two articles are tossed into a soaked heap on the tiled floor. Their underwear follows suit in haste, and water seeps across the floor of the entire washroom. 

Levi pulls away, both of them gasping for breath. He lets his gaze wander, from Erwin’s broad, mismatched shoulders to the smattering of golden hair across his chest, to his muscled abdomen and pelvic ridges, to the darker wiry hairs below. The rhythm of his heartbeat pounds in his ears, his thoughts strained taut with emotion. His lip between his teeth, Levi reaches out, scratching lightly through the hairs before his fingers circle around Erwin’s length, their eyes meeting wildly for a moment before their lips crash together again. Levi’s hand draws lazily, up and down, long slow pulls that leave Erwin panting against his mouth; their legs press together. 

The heat of Erwin’s body burns hotter than the water, burns a fiery imprint into Levi’s memory. 

Erwin sinks to his knees. Before Levi can protest the absence of their mouth-to-mouth contact, Erwin takes Levi’s cock between his lips, mouthing at foreskin before taking him deep, and the warm wet sheath has Levi bucking his hips up involuntarily. Erwin takes the movement in stride, tries to swallow Levi down, fingers pressing bruises into his slender hips and the divots of his ass. There’s just a little too much teeth with each bob of his head, the movement unpracticed, yet it’s just what Levi needs – when Erwin touches him like this, desperate and clumsy and frantic, it feels as though he can’t get enough, can  _never_  get enough of Levi. 

Levi stops him before he comes despite the protesting ache in his groin. They have time, he thinks to himself as he wills his pulse to slow. They’ve nothing but time. 

Not like  _back then_ , every decision hard-pressed for time, every turn of events a possible lethal end – 

He crushes the thought, pushes the ugliness into the recesses of his mind. Reaching for the soap, he drags the slippery bar along Erwin’s skin, lathers it in Erwin’s hair, concentrating on the task. Still on his knees, Erwin leans back under the spray of the shower, lets Levi comb through the strands. The rivulets of water run down Erwin’s face and form tiny streams in the weathered lines, paths tracing the cracks inflicted on him by time.  

It feels oddly intimate – Levi can’t recall the last time he’d showered with anyone, not like  _this_. Bathing has always been a private, meticulous affair for him, and seeing Erwin bared before him now, eyes closed, naked, and wholly vulnerable – it strikes a deep chord in him.  

Never has Erwin seemed quite so human, quite so imperfect, and quite so beautiful.  

Heat unfurls slowly in the pit of his belly, waking from a years-long slumber. He washes the last suds out of Erwin’s hair, fingers deft; Erwin lets his stubbled cheek brush Levi’s cock, makes him twitch before rising to his feet. 

“Fucking tease,” Levi hisses, but the rancor is softened by fondness.  

Erwin’s lips quirk. “Your turn,” he murmurs, hand on Levi’s hip, turning him around. And it’s how Levi finds himself breathless, chest pressed to cold porcelain as Erwin’s soap-slicked hand finds its way across his shoulders and armpits, oddly chaste as he moves to Levi’s back and thighs dutifully. Then: to his cock and his sac. Levi feels exposed, out of control. His hands start to shake, his heart racing despite himself. Despite knowing that he’s  _safe_   _now_. But this time instead of fighting, he lets it take over, splays his trembling fingers against the wall above his head and lets a little moan escape him when Erwin’s finger presses against the tight ring of muscle, gently circling before pushing into him with a sweet pressure. He doesn’t need to hide. Not from Erwin. 

Levi’s breaths come heavy, even more so when a second finger breaches him. A ball of tension, tightly wound inside him, makes him curl his toes as the line of Erwin’s body presses against him, the other man’s lips murmuring sweet nothings –  _beautiful, that’s right, Levi –_ against the hollow behind his ear, tickling the delicate skin there. His hands slip down - aren’t able to stay held above his head anymore – and he winds an arm around Erwin’s neck, desperate to feel the other man closer. Erwin is patient, fingers crooking inside of him, makes him spit out an epithet –  _yes, fuck_  – pulse thrumming in his ears.  

It’s a plea when Levi turns to press open-mouthed kisses to Erwin’s collar – a plea that Erwin readily obliges.  

The slippery tiles are a hazard: towelling off hastily, Erwin’s feet slip twice before they make it out of the bathroom. 

They manage to stumble over to the bed they’ve shared for months now, Levi pushing Erwin down on his back by his shoulders. He straddles the larger man’s hips, ready, but Erwin’s urgency seems to dampen; blue eyes rake up and down, appraising Levi in awe like he’s something precious. Like something Erwin had never thought he could touch, like something he’s wanted for a long time. 

“Come on,” Levi breathes, hips canting.  

“What do you want, Levi?” he says, and Erwin is smoke around Levi, tendrils of words tickling his skin and making goosebumps rise. Levi shudders, groin aching for release. 

“Fuck,  _fuck you_ – I want you, I want you inside me –” He’s blathering now, he knows it, but he can’t stop. “I don’t care if it hurts. Hurry up, you fucking giant, I don’t need to be prep–” 

He’s silenced by the sensation of a slicked palm along the underside of his cock. Erwin’s fingers curl around him, work him back to full hardness in perfect calmness. Levi bites his lip, the tender skin stinging as he squints at Erwin’s hand.  

“What the hell is this?” 

There’s an open jar on the nightstand, half-filled with something of a buttery consistency. But as Erwin’s hand strokes him, it doesn’t feel oily, just gel-like and slippery. The initial coolness gives way to the heat of Erwin’s hand, and it starts to feel good.  _Really_  good. 

“It’s an extract from seaweed that’s been commercialised. You’d be surprised how much demand there is now, in peacetime.” A long, slow pull. Satisfaction fills the corners of Erwin’s lips as Levi’s mouth falls open. 

 _Lubricant_ , Levi thinks dazedly. But why is it half-used if Erwin’s been out here alone? Surely Levi is the first to seek him out.  _Ah._ His brows narrow as he realizes; the mental image of Erwin pleasuring himself, body bowed – who would he have thought of? whose name had escaped his lips when he’d come? – sends a harsh jolt down to Levi’s groin, nearly sending him over the edge. He grabs Erwin’s wrist, stopping him.  

“Enough,” he says hoarsely. “Are you going to get around to fucking me or are you waiting for me to grow white hairs?” 

Desperation seeps through, just manages to make it through to his tone. Erwin grins, teeth bared as he angles his hips, but his hand shakes just the slightest bit as he positions himself at Levi’s entrance, betraying his own urgency. The look in Erwin’s eyes makes him ignite, and the slow heat sparks into a sizable flame. 

When Erwin finally enters him, the burn makes him grit his teeth. Erwin’s hand clenches on his hip like he’s going to stop. “Don’t you dare stop,” Levi growls, because he  _wants_ this, wants Erwin so much that the burn is nothing compared to how tight his chest is right now and he nearly sobs out loud with it. Instead, he dips his head and rests his forehead against Erwin’s clavicle, hands fisting in the sheets like they’re a lifeline. 

Erwin starts to move, the rhythm torturously slow. But Levi allows it, doesn’t urge him faster because Erwin’s breathing shuddering little breaths against his hair, his left arm coming to circle around Levi’s waist, gentle like Levi’s some precious thing he’s scared to break. Levi can feel the stump of Erwin’s right arm twitch as if yearning to do that same, and he presses his lips to that shoulder, leaves light kisses along the roughened scar tissue again. Except this time, it's gentle, knowing. It's with fondness that he traces these cracks on Erwin's being. Even the strongest walls are broken under enough pressure. 

Erwin groans, whispers Levi’s name in a groan, a reverent prayer – _you’re so good for me, Levi_ – and Levi doesn’t want this moment to end.  

He wants – wants to be soaked in the rain with Erwin – wants to wade into the ocean with Erwin – wants to be woken up each morning by cawing seagulls with Erwin – wants to live here out in the middle of nowhere, shitty tea and all with Erwin – wants  _this life_   _here_  with Erwin –  

– _wants Erwin – has always wanted Erwin –_  

The feeling balloons in his chest, straining against his ribcage and against his throat like a chokehold. It feels enormous, terrifying, but he holds on, faces it head-on just like he used to face Titans - not without fear, but certainly without regret. And then Erwin’s pulling his hand back, his movements faltering because Levi’s breaths are coming out in jerky gasps. 

“Fuck,” Levi says, a little wetly. There’s an overwhelming urge to laugh as Erwin’s eyes meet his in worry. “ _Move_ , you giant oaf. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.” 

Erwin’s hand circles around his cock, works him over in hard, slow strokes, thumb rubbing circles against his frenulum. Levi jerks at the unexpected contact, accidentally kicking Erwin in the kidneys. He leans back, letting his weight fall more against Erwin’s thighs, watches from this position every minute change in Erwin’s expression – the slackening of his jaw, the tightening of his brow. 

Levi threads the fingers of his left hand between Erwin’s, his other hand taking over, pumping himself in tandem with Erwin’s thrusts. He sees it coming when Erwin’s eyes flutter shut, dark ochre lashes fanning in spikes, still damp. 

Erwin groans, hips stuttering, body bowing; a deep, guttural noise that jolts Levi’s core. A grimace contorts his face as if in agony, murmuring once  _God yes, Levi_  – and it sends Levi over the edge. His own climax is quiet: a small muffled noise as he bites hard into his forearm, to stop himself from crying out  _mine, you’re finally mine._  

Erwin lets him ride it out, hand tracing gentle, patient circles on his thigh. As his posture sags, limbs heavy, Erwin lets Levi down gently, pressing their torsos together despite the stickiness between them. Levi’s too tired to protest that, nor the kiss that Erwin initiates, slow and long and deep. 

It tastes of salt from the sweat, and Levi finds it fitting, close as they are to the promised sea. 

\-- 

Afterward, Levi watches languidly through slitted eyes as Erwin wipes him down carefully with a soft cloth wetted with warm water. His touch is gentle but it seems to send tremors through Levi’s body nonetheless. When Erwin burrows into the sheets once more after washing the cloth, he encircles Levi with his one arm, holds him close as his lips press softly against the angry red of the bite marks on Levi’s arm.  

Their fingers twine, and Erwin can’t remember the last time he’s felt so whole. 

\-- 

Levi dreams.  

Of mountaintops, capped with snow; of sparkling waters, frothy waves gleaming in the last rays of the setting sun. He dreams of lush grasslands and grand forests, free at last from titans.  

The scenery mirrors the pictures in Erwin’s atlas – beautiful, mystical, and surreal. It’s a testament to what they’ve gained, a trophy: what they’ve fought for all along.  

Yet in his dream Levi cannot bask in the victory. Because despite the beauty of it all, it’s empty, holds nothing for him. He seems to float miles and miles above it all, untethered, reaching out for the tiny treetops, the ocean with desperate, clutching fingers that can’t grasp at anything. In his dream, there are no clouds, simply blue nothingness all about him, empty. 

In his dream, he can’t see any humans below.  

\-- 

In his sleep, Levi’s fingers tighten around Erwin’s, and the contact tethers him to Earth once more. 

::~::

“Nanaba was pregnant, you know.” 

Levi lifts his head from Erwin’s chest with effort, charcoal eyes still clouded with sleep. 

“Mike told me. Before they… before they passed.” 

There’s sunlight streaming in from the moth-eaten curtains, stinging at their eyes. The sounds of the ocean waves crashing onto rocks outside are distant, seem far-off and unreal in this moment. Erwin’s voice is hollow, his left hand resting lightly atop the sheets. It’s the first time he’s mentioned their fallen comrades. 

“He was excited. Scared, of course, but excited. They’d thought Nanaba couldn’t have children, so they hadn’t taken precautions. But Mike had always wanted a child and a family to take care of. He was so happy when they found out. And they were – they were hopeful. 

“They planned to announce it after the expedition, but the Female Titan’s appearance put a halt to that plan. They were to go on leave. Mike was planning on joining the Garrison, which wouldn’t have been all that much safer, but at least he would have been close to Nanaba during her pregnancy, and could visit often once their child was born. He’d wanted a girl. He’d always wanted a daughter, because all he’d had growing up were brothers. Nanaba insisted it was going to be a boy – said she could feel it. ‘Mother’s instinct,’ she’d said.” Erwin pauses, the small smile fading from his face, and Levi can see his one hand clenching in the sheets. “I guess we’ll never know who was right.” 

His voice falters on the last syllable. 

::~::

Summer brings late sunsets and the buzz of insect life in the evenings. Afternoon tea is had on the porch with a summer breeze at the expense of several mosquitos feasting on Erwin’s blood. (Mosquitos simply don’t seem to be attracted to Levi.) Later on in the season, they move inside to escape the heat, Erwin on an old rocking chair and Levi on the small couch.  

The scent of wisteria pervades their home; Erwin's obsessed with the flower, keeps dried vines of it everywhere despite Levi's protests of the bugs that get brought in with them. Yet there's something about the way Erwin enjoys the scent so deeply that brings a smile to Levi's face, a smile he's quick to hide when scolding Erwin for the ants in their cupboards.  

Another secret, but this one weaves itself gently into the laughter lines around his mouth. 

\-- 

It takes some time before Erwin starts asking about the others, how they've been since he's been gone. Levi takes it as a good sign; hearing about the kids (he refuses still to call those in the 104th squad "adults") in their new lives can only show Erwin how far he's brought them, how much positive change he's brought.  

Speaking of the older soldiers is more difficult, for few of them are left and speaking of one leads to bittersweet memories of the deceased. Slowly, but surely, Erwin begins to ask about the veterans.  

"The last I heard, Four-Eyes was studying things from the ocean. 'Chemicals from sea creatures' or something would cure some disease. I saw her poking at some slimy shit before I left. Nasty stuff. I'd rather die of sickness than put that filth down my throat." 

Erwin chuckles, seeming to be amused by Levi's wrinkling of his nose. "I think she's found her calling. This is what she's wanted to do all along - research that benefits humanity. She was a great fighter, but now she's happy doing what she loves." 

 _Happy_. Levi wonders if Erwin's happy.  

"She can poke at her little experiments all she wants," Levi mutters, crossing his legs, "as long as she doesn't come near me with them. Although... the things we saw down at the beach. The little purple things - the ones that look like puffy assholes." Erwin sighs at the description. (Levi thinks it's a pretty apt description, seeing as they even clench up.) "They're different from the green ones she'd found. She'd love that - we should bring back some." 

Erwin stills, his gaze travelling to Levi before falling to the teacup cradled in his hand. There’s that haunted look in his eyes again, appearing like an unwelcome rainstorm. “Levi… I can’t go back.” 

Levi's lips thin. "You have to go back sometime," he says flatly. "We can't live out here forever sipping tea like two old codgers. You've already thrown out your back once, and you know we've only got three hands between us for garden work." 

“I wouldn’t know how to function,” he says again, but it’s different this time, rings empty almost like a plea. “I wouldn’t know how to live normally. I wouldn’t know how to look at people and not calculate how useful they can be for the Survey Corps, or look at a child and not think – how good of a soldier could he be?” His tone is self-deprecating now, and that makes Levi’s hands clench harder. “I wouldn’t be able to look at a civilian and not wonder if I’ve sent one their daughters to her death.” 

' _Her legacy will not be forgotten.'_ Levi's own words echo hollowly in his head.  

Alone as Erwin must feel, Levi knows how that's like. He  _gets_ it because he's done the same, has looked at a struggling trainee and felt himself shying away from any emotional attachment because the first thing he thinks is that they'll be dead on their first expedition. An expedition that now, in peacetime, is nothing more than mapping new land.  

And yet it passes. He knows that it does, and as much as Erwin's blamed himself for the carnage, Levi knows this isn't something that lasts forever. This isn't the most they've faced, not by far -  _they,_ the two of them together. 

“Then let me help you,” Levi says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And it  _feels_  natural to him; once the words leave his lips, it’s almost funny how obvious it is, and he feels giddy with it. More firmly this time, “I’ll still be by your side, Erwin, if you want.”  

Erwin looks at him then, blue eyes wide with surprise at first, and then  _oh -_  there’s vulnerability there like Levi’s never seen before. Stark, unmasked openness: Erwin doesn’t have any walls up now, doesn’t  _need_  walls anymore –  _because there aren’t any Titans, there isn’t danger, they’re safe, safe, safe –_ especially not with Levi, and it sends a warm feeling through him, not unlike the pleasant sensation of sunbeams on his skin. He can almost feel the understanding come to Erwin, the realization that he won't be alone, that he doesn't need to face it all alone - 

He doesn’t have time to react before Erwin lurches across the space between their chairs, dropping to his knees before Levi, embracing clumsily with his one arm. His face is buried against Levi’s abdomen, his weight partly splayed across Levi’s thighs. His body curves around Levi’s smaller one, gives and clings to Levi’s sharp edges. The wooden floor, old as it is, groans at Erwin’s sudden weight, but it’s the only sound for several long moments. 

Hesitantly, Levi reaches forward to comb his fingers through Erwin’s hair, blunt nails dragging across his scalp. The movement elicits a shudder from the larger man; Erwin looks up at him, eyes filled with unmistakable gratitude and fondness.  

“Come here,” he says, business-like, cutting across before Erwin can speak. He knows it’ll be something incredibly sappy, full of emotion. He doesn’t know if he can handle it, not when Erwin looks like  _this_.  

Pulling Erwin up, they exchange places, Levi taking Erwin’s place on his knees, on the ground. He parts the other man’s legs, deft fingers thumbing open the buttons of Erwin’s trousers. The floorboards creak as he shifts. 

Erwin’s eyes are tender, hand stroking through Levi’s hair as Levi pumps him a few times, settling into a more comfortable position against Erwin’s thighs as his other hand explores the familiar terrain of Erwin's thighs and abdomen. When he’s half-hard, Levi takes him into his mouth, thumb and index finger holding him at the base while he tongues at the head, following the ridges. When Levi’s lips wrap around the shaft, Erwin’s hand tightens in his hair. By the way Erwin’s thighs clench, Levi knows he’s doing something right.  

It’s almost a game for them, has been for the last few weeks, figuring what the other likes and doesn’t like. They don’t speak much – don’t have much need to, really, for years of silent communication have allowed them to read each other effortlessly. But this, what they have between them now, is different, more intent-filled than their camaraderie. It’s a careful, personal exploration of the other, finally crossing the last boundary between them. And it has felt as natural as breathing. 

Erwin comes with a hitch of his breath, and then a low, drawn-out moan. His hand clenches tightly in Levi’s hair, then loosens.  

Levi swallows it down, something that he’d never expected to do, especially not so gladly, but the past weeks had seen otherwise from him. Erwin’s hand is a gentle pressure on his neck.  

“God, you’re beautiful,” Erwin whispers, reverent. Levi helps him back into his trousers, sensing Erwin’s lethargy. Then, concern flashing in his eyes, “Should I…?” 

Levi pushes himself to his feet. “It’s fine,” he says. This was for Erwin. He’s half-hard in his pants, but he ignores it and his erection wanes as he picks up their mugs and strides into the kitchen, refilling them with tea.  

When he’s back, soft snores are coming from Erwin’s lips. His face is lax, his jaw slack. 

“Oi,” Levi says, setting the steaming cups down. “ _Oi_ , wake up. I can’t carry you to bed, you overgrown bastard.” He nudges Erwin’s calf with his toe. No use – Erwin’s snores increase in volume, and Levi sighs. 

He unfolds the blanket at the end of the couch, drawing it up to Erwin’s chin. He looks peaceful, the lines on his face more relaxed than ever. There’s more gray in his hair, visible despite the blondeness now; soon it’ll be white, and Levi feels himself smile, for he had never imagined the two of them, of all people, having the luxury of growing old. 

Old indeed, he thinks as he yawns. The sun hasn’t even set, and he already feels tired. Gingerly, careful not to jostle his former commander, he curls up by Erwin with his legs on the couch, head resting gently against Erwin’s chest.  

It feels natural and it feels  _right_ , and he goes under within minutes. 

\-- 

Days are lazy, and evenings lazier.  

“My mother’s side of the family left me a villa in Sina,” Erwin says, out of the blue one such evening. He’s on the couch, sweetened black tea in his hand. “I’m the only one left in the family." 

"Swell," Levi says, thinking Erwin might talk again about the chess he'd played with his father in that house. 

Then, "You’ll stay there with me, when we go back, won’t you?” 

Levi blinks. “Yes,” he says on reflex, and the information sinks in slowly, but surely as the sun had risen, a muted, perfect glow that seeps into his skin. He wants to say something like  _Do you really want to live in the same filthy shithole as those pigs?_   _With Nile and his shitty little beard as your neighbour?_ But Erwin says the words like it’s fucking nothing, like he says shit like this all the time, and he’s actually considering going back which means he’s realized maybe he isn’t to blame and that’s all Levi’s wanted for a while now… 

“Okay, Erwin,” he says, and that’s that. 

::~::

They run out of razor blades when the leaves start to turn shades of fiery red. They had taken to shaving once every few days instead when the blades had dwindled, and while Levi can’t say his own stubble is attractive, he finds himself admiring the roughness of Erwin’s short beard sometimes. Even so, he doesn't bring up the subject of returning again, for he knows Erwin needs the time for himself.  

The visitor comes on a cool day, her knocking waking them up from their afternoon nap. For a ludicrous moment Levi expects titans at the door, knocking with their giant uncoordinated hands.  

The girl blinks when the door swings open, as if she hadn't expected anyone to answer. She's light-haired and has a slight sunburn on her freckled nose, like she's been travelling awhile. When she half-salutes, seeming to hesitate upon seeing them, fisted hand awkward at her chest, Levi sees the crossed wings on her sleeve. For her to travel so far, she must have been sent as a messenger. 

“Danch- sorry,  _sir_ ,” she says, eyes wide. “And – heichou, I didn’t expect you here–” 

“That’s alright. What do you have to report, cadet?” Erwin’s smile is perfunctory, not quite reaching his eyes, and it makes Levi grit his teeth because he hasn’t seen that dutiful mask for ages. But he understands Erwin’s regression into the stony guise: what had happened? What could have been so important such that a messenger had to come find him? His mind is creaking as it shifts rusty gears, back into a state of perpetual strain; he knows Erwin is doing the same, checking an inventory of troops, considering mobilization formations. 

“I – That is, the message I have to deliver is from Commander Hanji Zoe,” she says, blinking rapidly, and Levi’s heart drops. “She – She and Squad Leader Moblit Berner invite you to their wedding.” 

 _Oh._ The thoughts, like controlled panic, buzz angrily for another moment before dissipating.  

The messenger goes on, listing off the time and date and other details, but Levi stops listening, knowing Erwin can handle it. He retreats to the kitchen without another word, stands before the sink with his hands clenching the edge, his knuckles a stark white.  

Soon the voices from the door quieten and he feels a presence behind him.  

“Are you alright?” Erwin asks quietly, and the warmth of his hand covers one of Levi’s. Levi scowls at the disparity in size, but can’t deny the contact soothes him, relieves some of the wound-up tension. It’s almost completely gone already – he can breathe easy by now – and admittedly it hasn’t been bad for a long time. Indeed, he can’t remember the last time he’d had to resist the shaking until he’d fallen sleep, angry and frustrated. 

“What did you say to her?” he asks, staring down at their joined hands. The summer of gardening had freckled Erwin’s arm and roughened his fingertips, the beds of his nails peeling slightly.  

“I said Hanji could expect us both there.” 

Levi’s head jerks up in surprise, gaze searching Erwin’s eyes. There aren’t bags under his eyes anymore, the way there were during his time as Commander. Like Hanji, they’re moving on, moving forward into a new page in the maps of their lives. Still, Levi needs to make certain. “Are you sure? You’re sure you’re ready?” 

There’s a soft look in Erwin’s eyes. Genuine. His fingers tighten slightly around Levi’s.  

“I’m ready to go back.” 

* * *

_epilogue..._

The wedding is held just outside the walls, out on the plains. It’s a semi-formal affair; neither Hanji nor Moblit couldn’t have been bothered to plan too much for the wedding, and indeed much of it was organized by the Survey Corps recruits for their commander. (This would explain the excess of alcohol, and the shortage of proper food.)

Still, the wedding runs smoothly and as the wind causes the tall grasses to tickle the calves of all those wearing skirts, Hanji kisses her newly-wed husband for the first time, with a vigour that has him nearly falling backwards. He already looks frazzled, his hair mussed, but love-struck grin on his face is unmistakably happy.

Dancing goes until midnight, and a little later than that for the younger soldiers. Erwin politely turns down a few women who ask him to dance, saying he wouldn’t be a good dance partner with his one arm, but gives in for a tiny girl, barely seven. She hangs off his arm, dances on his feet, and laughs a tinkering laugh that Levi hears meters away.

For anyone who had approached Levi, a glower had sent them scampering away.

“You’re making those wrinkles worse,” Mikasa says, deadpan, but her eyes are alight with amusement as she sits down in Erwin’s vacated spot for a few moments. Her scarf flutters in the breeze, and as she tucks it back reflexively, Levi sees the ring on her finger.

“Decided to keep him?” Levi says casually, crossing his legs.

Mikasa grins, a sharp, possessive flash of teeth, and Levi’s reminded of why he took her on as his student. “Yes, just after I was relocated to Sina as Historia’s bodyguard, we decided to get engaged. He’s still out on patrols. We’re thinking of having the wedding in a few months.”

The song ends, and the little girl fists her hand over her chest in a clumsy salute. There’s a grimace that passes over Erwin’s face before he covers it with smile, and Levi understands.

As Erwin fumbles to slip his arm into the jacket, Mikasa leans over conspiratorially. “At this rate,” she says quietly, “you two will be the last one. To get hitched, that is.”

Before Levi can bristle and reject her words, Erwin’s hand falls on his shoulder. “Ready to go?” he asks, smiling amiably.

Levi fixes one last glare at his protégé, who smiles innocently at Erwin.

“How was the dance?” Levi asks as they walk away from the festivities.

Erwin chuckles. “‘Dance’ is a loose term. I felt like a titan the way she was crawling all over me.”

Scowling, Levi pats the dirt off Erwin’s pant leg, likely tracked on there by the child before he straightens up again. Then –

“What?” 

Levi’s eyes are wide. “You’re smiling,” he accuses, but the corners of his own lips tug up in response. “I’ve never seen you smile so much.” 

It’s been a few weeks since they’ve returned, and it’s been as if the burdened weight had been slowly shed from Erwin’s shoulders, leaving behind a new man, scrubbed raw, not healed – no, far from it – but a man from whose eyes joy can finally shine through, bright and clear. He looks as Hanji had at her birthday party so long ago, tranquil and present in this new, free world.

Erwin grins, then shrugs.

As they leave, Erwin’s hand finds his, closing over his fingers with a welcome warmth. The gesture is near-invisible in the dusk, but Levi sees in his peripheral vision a satisfied smile on Mikasa’s face.

Levi’s cheeks colour, their redness a secret only the stars know.

\--

“What did you think?” Erwin asks as their carriage takes them through Sina. Within the privacy of the cushioned compartment, Levi’s legs are resting in Erwin’s lap, their forms pressed close. 

“Tch,” he says, picking at a stray thread on the seat. “As long as the older ones don’t make such a fuss if  _we_  ever get married.” 

There’s a soft inhalation, then quiet, and Levi turns to see Erwin’s surprised expression.  _Shit_  – he hadn’t meant for it to come out that way, hadn’t meant to put Erwin on the spot – damn Mikasa for putting the idea into his head –

“I mean – that’s not – we don’t have to get married or anything, it was just –” 

He’s silenced with the feeling of Erwin’s lips on his own. When Erwin pulls away, his eyes are wide, earnest azure in the dark. 

“I’d like that,” he murmurs. “I’d like that very much. If you would be willing to be mine.” 

A multitude of emotions surge through him, and Levi thinks of ten different ways to brush it off, to break this taut moment between them. To pretend he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t heard Erwin correctly. To joke that they were becoming sappy old geezers.

Instead, he wraps Erwin’s fingers around his wrist, and in the quiet of dusk, the sound of Levi’s heartbeat is clear and ardent.  

"Listen." His voice comes out in a whisper, but it’s firm. Unretractable. “I offered my heart up to you long ago, Erwin. I’ve been yours since the very start.” 

Erwin’s throat bobs, and for once it seems as if he doesn’t know what to say. Wordlessly, he brings Levi’s wrist to his lips, kissing the strong, steady pulse of the man he loves. 

_... fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was implied eremika btw, and i headcanon levi and mikasa kinda getting along at some point so it made sense to me if he was her teacher (loosely using this term)??
> 
> (do you ever get that feeling where you just want them to do all the sexytime things but it’s too much to fit into 1 scene so you’re really sad??? because there's a lot of porn in your brain?????? maybe that's just me though oops) dammit jen
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Comments & feedback are much appreciated & really make my day :3
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://ephieshine.tumblr.com) where I get way too emotional over these 2 gross old men. (I also write ficlets that only go on tumblr)


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